by Gina LaManna
“Except Russo.”
My eyebrows thought up. “I thought you were on Team Gem.”
“I’m on Team Get-Kate-a-Date,” she said. “I’ve given up on specifics.”
“Thanks for the confidence.”
She gave a kind smile, reached over and squeezed my arm in sympathy. “I’m only sort of joking. But really, Kate, you can’t let this job take over your life.”
“It’s much too late for that.”
“It’s not too late for anything. Your life is just beginning.”
“You say that as if you’re a ninety-year-old wise woman. You’re only a few years older than me.”
“Which is why I have perspective from my advanced age.” She removed her hand from my arm and brushed hair from her face. “Just think about it. That’s all I’m asking you.”
I leaned against the car. “I have been thinking about it. And if it were any other case, I would probably hand it over to Jimmy.”
“But?”
“But there’s something personal about it.”
“Because it happened at Bellini’s? That makes it personal for all of us.”
“I know,” I hedged, hesitant to spill the news about my dad even to one of my closest friends. “It’s a gut feeling for now. That’s all.”
Something switched in Melinda’s eyes. “I was afraid you might say that.”
“I want to let this case go, believe me. But I can’t. There’s some unfinished business that comes along with it. If I handed it off and went to frolic with Russo, I wouldn’t be able to enjoy it.”
“I can think of better things to do with your agent than frolic.” Melinda raised an eyebrow.
“Yeah, yeah. You know what I mean.”
“While you bring up a good point, I disagree. I think you’d enjoy frolicking just fine, but I know you better than to try and change your mind.”
“Thank you.”
“In that case, there is something else.”
I stood up straighter, brushed a spec of invisible lint from my pants. “You’ve been holding out on me?”
“I knew if I told you this up front, there was no way you’d even consider handing the case off. For the record, I still think you should separate yourself from the investigation regardless, but that’s not my choice.”
“It’s not,” I said a bit too testily. “And I wish you wouldn’t keep things from me.”
“Again, it’s a hunch, a loose tie. Nothing concrete.” Melinda’s eyes flicked down toward her stilettos before settling on me. “The case I was telling you about—the one where Jonny Sacchetti’s murderer was never caught...”
“What about it?”
“Your father was a person of interest,” she said, watching my reaction carefully. “The lead officer at the time questioned him. Several times.”
“Do you know the officer’s name offhand?”
“Detective Kevin Cox,” she said. “He’s retired now.”
I cleared my throat. “Ah. Well, thanks. I suppose I should take a look through the files and see if there are any other links.”
“Any other links?” She frowned. “Why are you not more surprised? You have spoken of your father about three times in the years I’ve known you. I thought his name cropping up might surprise you.”
“You should know me better than that,” I said. “Nothing surprises me.”
“Except maybe your feelings for Russo,” she said. “Which is exactly the reason I think you’re making this case personal instead of letting it be what it is—a homicide investigation.”
“That’s ridiculous.”
“You’re not surprised by your dad’s name. Why?”
“It came up yesterday,” I said. “Turns out my cousin Angela has seen him around a few times. It’s a newer thing.”
“Oh, Kate.” Melinda tsked, shook her head. “Don’t tell me it was in the same sentence as Joe Ricci.”
“Bingo.”
“I’m so sorry.”
I shrugged. “Like you said, it’s any old homicide case. It doesn’t have to be personal.”
“It is personal,” she said. “Do you think he’s good for it?”
“It’s impossible to say. I haven’t spoken to the man in years.”
“You have the best instincts of any detective in this city.”
“Coming from the woman who refuses to make a single assumption.”
“It’s a compliment,” Melinda said. “Have you seen him?”
“I just came from his place,” I said. “But don’t say anything yet. To my mom, to Russo, to the department. His name’s not in the report yet.”
Melinda’s eyebrow crept up. “The plot thickens.”
“I haven’t proven a thing yet, so it’d be pointless to raise red flags.”
“No, but if it were any old homicide investigation, I can’t help but think you’d have noted him as a person of interest. He’s tied to Joe Ricci by a witness. Joe Ricci is tied to a similar murder from years ago. There are links, Kate. I worry about you shouldering the burden of your dad’s past, and the task of finding the current killer.”
“I would never sweep anything under the rug.” My testiness had returned. “You should know that.”
“That’s not what I meant.” Melinda, ever the calm one, spoke soothingly. “I meant it’s not your duty to do that. Your dad’s name carries a lot of weight, especially in this city. If he is involved somehow, and it gets out to the media that his daughter is investigating the one and only Angelo Rosetti, it’ll be a circus.”
“It won’t get out,” I said. “The second I find something substantial, I’ll excuse myself. Until then, the Bellini’s are still family, and I’m going to find out why there was a mob hit in their restaurant.”
“If that’s what you want.”
“It is.” I spun, started walking toward the café parking lot. I felt Melinda’s eyes on me, even as she opened her car door. At the last second, I turned around. “He didn’t do it. I know he didn’t.”
It sounded like a plea, even to my own ears. Melinda, however, gave me a thin smile that didn’t reach her eyes.
“I hope you’re right, Kate.”
Chapter 6
“Joe Ricci,” I said into the phone, skipping straight past hello and directly into the meat of why I was calling. “I’m going to head over to his house and see if he’s home. Are you interested in joining me?”
Detective Jimmy Jones had been my partner for long enough that he was used to my abrupt calls.
“Okey dokey,” he said amiably. “But if you’re headed to his digs, you’re going to the wrong place.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I looked over your notes, chatted with Melinda. Joe’s name kept coming up. I just knocked on his door—no answer.”
“That’s why I love you, Jimmy.”
“I know,” he said. “It gets better. I looped in Asha to find him.”
I remembered Asha saying she’d been working on something for Jimmy, and it suddenly clicked that Joe Ricci’s location was it. “Is he in the wind?”
“He was seen in the wee hours of the morning at a nudie bar in Minneapolis.”
“Of course he was.”
“I was wondering if it might’ve been a little celebration of sorts,” Jimmy said. “A reward for a job well done.”
“Which bar?”
“How familiar are you with the strip club scene?” Jimmy asked, amusement in his voice. “I can send you over the address if you like.”
“That’d be great,” I said. “I’ll meet you there.”
“C’mon, Kate. I thought you were going to take off this afternoon.”
“I was, but...” I hesitated. “Maybe we’re close. Maybe Ricci is sleeping it off somewhere and hasn’t dumped the gun yet. I still have tonight and tomorrow to get together with Russo. It’s not a total waste.”
“If you say so.”
“Did Melinda mention anyone else’s name?”
�
��Not that I know of, why?”
“Just curious.”
“Didn’t you talk to her?”
“I did. Forget it.”
“I saw the other names you had jotted on your list—Mo and Stinky—but I figured I’d try my luck with Joe first. Seems like he’s got the most connections.”
“I think that’s a good bet,” I said grimly, hoping that when we found Joe Ricci, he wouldn’t be spilling more names. Particularly the name of one blacklisted Rosetti. “So, I’ll see you there?”
“I suppose I don’t have a choice.”
“Not really.”
“You know, if you wanted to bring Russo along, it could be a little date of sorts.”
“What sort of first date is a strip club?”
“The kind where you’re a homicide detective and not willing to take time off the job.”
“Shove it, Jones. I’ll see you soon. Don’t talk to Ricci without me.”
I GAVE RUSSO A CALL on the drive over to Minneapolis. When he answered, I glanced guiltily at the clock and saw it was already after lunch. My stomach growled to cement the lateness of the hour.
“I’m sorry,” I said the second he answered. “I didn’t intend to stay this long, but the case got a little more complicated than I thought.”
“They always do.”
I hesitated, wondering if Russo’s even tone meant that he truly did understand and didn’t mind, or if he understood but was still annoyed. I didn’t know him well enough to be able to decipher the nuances over a phone line. And I wouldn’t blame him for feeling either way.
“I really am sorry,” I said, softer. “If you’re not sick of sticking around, maybe I can explain it to you over dinner?”
“I’d like that.”
“I’ll make this up to you, I promise.”
A hint of laughter entered his tone. “Now, I can get on board with that. I can be convinced to give you a few more hours on the case if the bartering picks up steam. What do you have for me?”
“Careful, don’t get too overzealous.” I found myself grinning as I flicked on the blinker for my exit. “Where’d you like to get dinner?”
“I imagine you’d like to shower and change before, so why don’t I pick you up? It’ll be like a real date.”
“We’ve tried that before. It never seems to work.”
“Fifteenth time’s a charm.”
“Ha ha,” I said. “Sounds good. Let’s plan for seven, but I’ll call you if I get back earlier.”
“Or later,” he said.
“Russo...”
“I’m kidding,” he said. “I understand. Really. I’ve gotten a good run in, enjoyed the sunshine. I’m even getting some work done.”
“Don’t forget, you chatted up my mother somewhere in there.”
“Where else am I supposed to get coffee? I didn’t want her to be offended.”
“She didn’t have to know you were in town.”
“Am I a secret now?” Russo asked. “Your forbidden fruit?”
“Gross.”
Russo barked a laugh. “Where are you headed, if I may ask?”
I flinched as I pulled the car over and parked in a metered spot. A dingy building rose two levels before me, a garden of neon lights flickering half-heartedly in the daylight. A black door with no name on it sat discreetly behind a fire hydrant. A buff bouncer leaning against the brick building was the only sign that the club was open.
“It’s this little spot called Ladies of Luxury.”
I could hear Russo smiling through the phone.
“Sounds like a strip club,” he said. “I take it I’m not invited to tag along?”
“It’s not that sort of visit.”
“Well, then I’ll just let you make your tardiness up to me later. By the way, what else do you eat besides pizza?”
“Um... Italian?”
He waited a beat. “Pizza is Italian.”
“Right,” I said. “I’m not picky.”
“I’ll figure something out. Don’t let me keep you,” Russo said. “I’m sure the ladies of luxury wait for no one.”
“Russo, wait.” I stopped him just before he hung up. “Thank you for understanding about last night and today. You won’t believe how hard it is to find someone who really does get it.”
“Believe me,” he murmured. “I get it. Be safe, okay?”
“Same to you. And stay away from my mother.”
“I’m looking forward to tonight, Kate. You’re worth the wait.”
“Er, great. Anyway, I should probably get going. I’m sure Jimmy’s waiting for me.”
“Don’t forget your dollar bills.”
I managed an awkward goodbye before hanging up with Russo. I was still chewing on his last words as I swiped my credit card in the meter and caught a glimpse of my partner’s car.
Jimmy was waiting for me next to the bouncer. It was a close contest as to who was actually bigger in size. While Jimmy had a wide smile on his face, the bouncer wore a frown like a badge of honor. His shiny bald head and the tattoo beside his eye didn’t make him any less intimidating.
“About time you get here,” Jimmy said. “Who were you talking to in the car?”
“I’ll give you one guess.”
“Ah, the boyfriend.”
“Wrong. He’s not my boyfriend.”
“Don’t tell me Russo’s jealous of the Ladies of Luxury.” Jimmy winked at me as he flashed his badge at the bouncer. “Did you tell him you’ll make it up to him later?”
I couldn’t help the flush on my cheeks.
“I’ll take that as a yes,” Jimmy said. “In that case, the poor guy’s probably biding his time until you get off tonight. You are taking some time away for dinner, I hope?”
“Yes,” I said. “So, let’s skip the small talk and find Ricci.”
Jimmy nodded as we stepped inside the dimly lit club. Even in the middle of a sunny afternoon, it felt as if we’d been thrust onto the seedier side of the Vegas strip.
There was plenty of activity inside, which I found odd. I couldn’t help but wonder who wandered into a strip club for brunch on Saturdays. My answer, I realized, sat before me.
A quick glance around the room told me that Ricci wasn’t here—at least, not on the main floor. There were a few poles on stages and one or two girls in the middle of some very seductive routines. I stopped to watch one particularly flexible woman as she did a complicated looking spin.
“C’mon,” Jimmy said. “You’re not a paying customer. It ain’t polite to stare.”
“Interesting to see you’re so knowledgeable about strip club etiquette.”
“You’re the one staring like you’re interested.”
“I’m very interested,” I said without thinking. “I mean, did you see what she did? That takes a lot of strength. She must have abs of steel. I wish I could bend like that.”
“You’ll need to change up your gym routine,” Jimmy said. “But I’m sure Russo won’t complain if you use him for practice.”
I pulled my eyes away from the dancer as a short, thin man with ginger-colored hair approached, his eyes squinty as they flitted between us. “Can I help you?”
“She gave us away, didn’t she?” Jimmy gave a good-natured smile and thumbed at me. “It’s obvious she doesn’t belong.”
“You guys cops? Narcs?” The man looked nervously over his shoulder. “We’re all cool here. We got nothing to hide.”
“Good, then maybe there’s a place we can talk. I take it you’re the manager?”
The man studied Jimmy. “Yeah. They call me Lucky. I run this place for the owner. Come on back, let’s make this quick.”
We followed Lucky to a small room at one side of the bar. It wasn’t much brighter in the office than on the main dance floor, which wasn’t saying much. A nondescript desk and a beat-up chair sat near the far wall. The desk’s surface was stacked with papers and ledgers and who knew what else. I certainly didn’t care to sift through it, but I was su
re that if I threatened to, Lucky might just be more apt to talk.
I gave a long look at the papers. My suspicions were confirmed when Lucky took a seat behind the desk and snapped one of the hand-written ledgers shut.
“I’m not interested in that,” I said. “Rather, I’d be happy to forget about it if you help us out.”
“We run a clean operation here. Not sure what I can do for you.”
“I’ll pretend I believe you for about the next five minutes. Give us something, and we won’t bother you. That’s how this is going to work,” I said. “It’s not a negotiation.”
The man sniffed, looked between us. His eyes were bleary enough to have me wondering if he was on something, or if he’d simply pulled an all-nighter working.
“Joe Ricci,” I said. “Have you seen him in here lately?”
“I don’t know the name.”
“Maybe the face then,” Jimmy said, pulling a photo out of his pocket and placing it on the table. “This jog any memories?”
Lucky shifted in his seat. “I’m not sure. Lots of people come through here looking like that.”
I studied the picture of Joe Ricci. He wasn’t handsome. He had hair like a poodle and enough curls piling out of his shirt from his chest that it made me wonder if he’d had it permed. His nose was a bit squashed, his lips too big for his face. He wore a smile that looked more like a scowl.
“Everyone knows Joe,” I said. “Was he in here or not? If it helps, we already know he was. So, we can skip past that first lie and move on to the second. Is Joe close to any girls? Did he talk to anyone this morning?”
Lucky expelled a breath. “I guess I’m not really telling you anything you don’t know, since it seems like we’ve got a snitch.”
“Then tell us something about Ricci. What was he doing here? Where’d he go? Who’d he talk to? What time did he leave?”
“That’s a lot of talk for free.” Lucky sized us up, then apparently decided he didn’t have much of an option because he started talking. “He came in here—oh, I dunno. Close to one in the morning. He’s in here a couple of times a month maybe.”
“Does he come in with anyone?”
“Not exactly.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”